


Say It

by someonestolemyshoes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Daddy Kink, Hand Jobs, Humour, M/M, Semi Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, and then some seriousness, honestly this is almost crack level of terrible, i can't physically look at this anymore, iwaizumi likes beiing called iwa-chan too much, iwaoi - Freeform, just the word daddy, name kink, not really but mildly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonestolemyshoes/pseuds/someonestolemyshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They should not be doing this. They should absolutely, one hundred per cent not be doing this. </p>
<p>Iwaizumi had been stupid, maybe, to give Oikawa the benefit of the doubt as he’d crawled into his futon, crooning about the cold and the quiet and the comfort of Iwaizumi’s sheets compared to his own, and he’d been so especially stupid to think things wouldn’t go far, even as Oikawa had flattened his palm against Iwaizumi’s stomach and dug his fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts."</p>
<p>Or: Oikawa gives Iwaizumi a sneaky hand job one night during a training camp and Iwaizumi is horribly weak to Oikawa's will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say It

**Author's Note:**

> i hate myself and everything i stand for

They should not be doing this. They should absolutely, one hundred per cent _not_ be doing this.

Iwaizumi had been stupid, maybe, to give Oikawa the benefit of the doubt as he’d crawled into his futon, crooning about the cold and the quiet and the comfort of Iwaizumi’s sheets compared to his own and he’d been so especially stupid to think things wouldn’t go far, even as Oikawa had flattened his palm against Iwaizumi’s stomach and dug his fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts.

He’d been stupid, in a haze of sweet kisses and minty breath and the gentle nip of teeth pulling at his bottom lip, to think _Oikawa_ might be the one to decide to stop.

“Hush now, _Iwa-chan_.” Oikawa’s words bleed out in one long, hot breath over Iwaizumi’s throat and he tilts his head back further into the fingers fisting his hair against the pillows, jerks his hips right as the name falls from Oikawa’s lips. He hates it, what it does to him; the way it burns his gut and shakes his limbs and numbs his tongue behind is teeth and he hates, more than anything, that Oikawa knows it.

“Keep quiet,” Oikawa says, “you don’t want the others to hear, do you?”

_The others_. The team. Fast asleep, spread in futons around the room, exhausted after the first of three heavy training days. The team, that could wake up at any moment to find Oikawa pressed snug against Iwaizumi's side, hand buried in his shorts and his mouth latched to his neck. 

Honestly, Iwaizumi isn’t too sure that he _doesn’t_ want them to hear. The thought makes his cheeks flush hot and red and his stomach tightens, cock jumping in Oikawa’s fingers. Oikawa nips his teeth against Iwaizumi’s earlobe and chuckles, breathy and quiet behind Iwaizumi’s soft, irregular pants and he brushes his thumb over Iwaizumi’s tip, rubs the edge of one short, filed nail over the slit and shifts to swallow Iwaizumi’s moans where they slip from his open lips.

“Iwa-chan,” he says again and again Iwaizumi jerks, curls his toes and stretches his neck and grabs a fistful of Oikawa’s pants for something to hold on to. Oikawa’s voice is lilting, laced with amusement.

“Just hurry _up_.” Iwaizumi casts a nervous glance around the room. Nobody is stirring, but Iwaizumi is painfully on edge as his shorts rustle with every move Oikawa makes. “It’s late, we should be sleeping.”

“Alright, _Mom_.” Oikawa’s hand gives a couple of tight, strong jerks around Iwaizumi’s length and then he slows, drags his hand all the way up until his fingers are wrapped around the head and eases them down in one long, drawn movement. “Iwa,” he says, “if you’re the mom, that makes me the dad, right?”

Iwaizumi already doesn’t like where this is going. He hates it even more, when Oikawa squeezes the base of his shaft and tightens the hand gripping his hair to pull his head back so far he can see the peaks of Kindaichi’s toes beneath his blanket behind him

“Will you call me _daddy?_ ”

“Shittykawa I _swear_ -.”

“ _Shhhh_.” Oikawa tugs on his hair again, the line of his lips pressed against Iwaizumi’s jaw as he hisses his quiet and Iwaizumi can feel the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth where it smooths over his skin. “I’m joking, Iwa-chan.”

“ _Hng—ah_.”

Oikawa pumps him a few times, slinks his hand low enough to cup his balls in his palm, fingers pressing into the flesh behind them, massaging close to his hole and Iwaizumi pulls his knuckles up to his mouth and bites down on the bone until it stings, rolling his hips back towards Oikawa’s probing fingers.

“Not now,” Oikawa whispers, tone teasing and promising all at once and he skirts his hand back up, drags the heel of it over Iwaizumi’s cock, pressing into his stomach enough to pull a strained, choked kind of gasp from him.

“More.” Iwaizumi tries for demanding but the darkness and the quiet leave so little room for expression that it comes out more as pleading, and Oikawa’s face looms into his line of sight enough for Iwaizumi to see the smug grin carved over his features.

“Hm?” Oikawa’s hand slips away from his cock, slides over the hard line of Iwaizumi’s abdomen and rucks his shirt up enough to splay over his chest, kneading the flesh in slow, methodical strokes.

“Oikawa,” he grunts, rolls his hips up against the tented fabric of his shorts and arcs his back enough to push his chest into Oikawa’s hand. “Come on.”

“I need you to be more specific.” Oikawa’s voice is smooth in the silence and it bleeds over Iwaizumi like fire, sets heat bubbling over his skin and raises goosebumps over the back of his neck.

“For fucks sake.” Iwaizumi knows his voice is probably a little too loud, a little too angry, but Oikawa’s touch is teasing over his chest and the fingers curled at the back of his head are scratching over his scalp and both touches aren't nearly enough. “Jerk me.”

“So vulgar, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi ruts his hips up at _nothing_ and claws at Oikawa’s pant leg, tugs the fabric and presses his head hard into his pillow.

“Please,” he grits out, and Oikawa’s hand leaves his chest. Oikawa’s face moves away from his, back enough for him to lick a long, wet stripe down his palm, and his eyes lock right on to Iwaizumi’s as he dances his fingers to Iwaizumi’s shorts and slips them beneath the waistband to curl around his cock again.

Iwaizumi sucks a breath between his teeth. Oikawa’s palm is damp and soft and it glides over him like silk, pumping a steady rhythm. He’s looking through half-lidded eyes but even then Iwaizumi is sure Oikawa doesn’t even blink, just stares at him with eyes blown so wide they look black in the darkness.

He’s panting his breaths, too loud and too obvious and _god_ if someone were to wake up…

“Hurry up,” Iwaizumi says, and he tacks on a choked _please_ when Oikawa’s movements threaten to stop. From somewhere to their left Iwaizumi hears the rustle of sheets and a long, drawn kind of sigh and he holds his breath in his chest as Oikawa presses his face close beside him.

“I’ll make you come.” Iwaizumi feels the tickle of Oikawa’s lips at his ear, the ghost of his breath and the tip of his tongue where it teases his flesh as he says, “if you say it.”

“Say what?” Iwaizumi hisses.

“Daddy.”

Iwaizumi jerks his head to one side hard enough to crack his forehead off Oikawa’s nose and for a moment he pauses, lets Oikawa blink himself out of his daze, and then he digs his hand out of the covers and reaches out to smack at Oikawa’s shoulder.

“ _Assykawa_ ,” he hisses, and they both still as somebody in the far corner of the room snorts in their sleep. “I’m not—I won’t— _no_.”

“Why not?” Oikawa’s hand is still curled around his cock and he gives a few slow, soft pumps, just enough to knock a little of the fight out of Iwaizumi, before he leans close enough to suck a few kisses into his neck. “C’mon, _Hajime_. Say it once.”

“ _No_.”

Oikawa rubs his thumb over the tip, spreads pearls of precome over Iwaizumi’s cock and his own palm and tugs at him quick and sharp enough to bow his spine and pull a few quiet, airy moans from his throat.

“You’re being too loud, Iwa-chan,” he says, and Iwaizumi’s hips jump. “If I keep going like this, you’ll wake everyone up.”

“Oikawa,” he tries, and when Oikawa’s strokes don’t let up he chokes out a strangled, “ _Tooru_.”

“Nuh-uh.” Oikawa knows exactly what he’s doing; it’s overstimulating, each quick, harsh movement sends electricity straight up Iwaizumi’s spine and after the slower, gentler touches it’s too much too fast and his throat aches with the effort of keeping louder cries at bay. “Just once,” Oikawa says, and Iwaizumi shakes his head. “It’s not hard. _Daddy_.”

Iwaizumi’s hips flex, fingers clenching, arcing his neck back and the movement makes Oikawa still altogether.

“Hajime,” he says, a definite note of surprise in his tone. He trails his face from Iwaizumi’s ear down to his neck, suckles on the skin until it hurts, peppers a line of wet, open mouthed kisses up over his jaw to his cheek and when he speaks he presses the words into Iwaizumi’s skin. “Do you _like_ that?”

Iwaizumi locks his jaw and trains his eyes on the ceiling. _Fuck_. His mind circles back to _Iwa-chan_ , to the way it makes his whole body flare, stretches him out and curls him in all in one jerky, involuntary movement and he thinks about the way the word _daddy_ sounds bleeding off of Oikawa’s tongue, hissed in the quiet, and his whole body shudders again. Oikawa’s mouth spreads in a smile against his cheek.

“Try it,” he says. “C’mon, Hajime. See how it tastes.”

Oikawa licks his lips, the tip of his tongue wetting Iwaizumi’s skin, and Iwaizumi tests the word out in his head. _Daddy_. His stomach tenses. _Daddy_. He can feel a familiar kind of heat prickling over his chest, blooming in his cheeks. _Daddy._ Oikawa’s hand kick-starts on his cock, slides in an easier, looser grip that curls his toes and rolls his eyes in his skull.

“ _Daddy_.”

“There it is.”

It doesn’t take much, after that. Oikawa mouths at his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his ear, down his neck and his hand doesn’t stop working, even when Iwaizumi’s hips start thrusting up to meet him and he can feel the pinch of Oikawa’s teeth where they settle right on his shoulder, nipping hard enough to hurt but it does nothing to douse the heat curling in his stomach.

“C’mon, Hajime,” Oikawa says, and he’s panting, too, hot and heavy on Iwaizumi’s skin. Iwaizumi jerks his hand up to his face and sinks his teeth into the soft flesh by his thumb, groans into his own skin as Oikawa alternates his tugs with a swipe of his thumb over Iwaizumi’s head, angled just enough to press against his slit as he moves. He’s so, painfully close, muscles tight and burning and straining and then Oikawa’s lips brush his ear, tongue peaking out to lick at his lips, and he leans close enough to press his forehead into Iwaizumi’s hair as he speaks.

“Come, _Iwa-chan_.”

He comes with his eyes squeezed closed, a moan bleeding past his hand and his hips stuttering into Oikawa’s fist. It’s about as satisfying as it is disgusting, spilling into his own shorts and over Oikawa’s hand and he heaves in a few breaths through his nose as Oikawa strokes him through his orgasm.

“We are never,” Iwaizumi says, regulates his breaths with a few measured sighs, “ _never_ , speaking of this again.”

Oikawa slips his hand out of Iwaizumi’s shorts with a laugh, wipes his palm over Iwaizumi’s shirt as he withdraws and shifts to lie more comfortably on his side.

“You liked it,” Oikawa says, light and teasing and completely accusatory, and Iwaizumi thumps his fist down on top of Oikawa’s head. “Ow! Jeez, Iwa, so mean! That’s not how you thank a guy who just-”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi says, and he tugs Oikawa’s chin up enough to peck him once, hard, on the lips before he rolls his back to him and pulls the blankets up around his ears.

“Iwaizumi.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I can’t,” Oikawa says, and he shuffles until his hips are snug against Iwaizumi’s. “I can’t sleep like this.”

“You brought it on yourself.”

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi flips over and slaps his palm over Oikawa’s mouth.

“Oikawa,” he says, “for the love of _God_. Shut up, and go to sleep. Before you wake the whole damn _team_.”

Oikawa peaks up at him through is lashes, eyes big and brown and shining and for a moment Iwaizumi considers caving, pressing Oikawa into the floor and palming him until he comes undone, and then Oikawa’s eyes flash and something hot and wet laves over his palm and Iwaizumi jerks his hand back.

“Bed,” he says, wiping his palm down Oikawa’s shirt. “I’m tired, and you disgust me.”

“Cruel, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi shoves at Oikawa’s shoulders until he moves, stretches himself to stand and pointedly adjusts the elastic of his pants. Iwaizumi grins, then, and he pulls one of Oikawa’s hands to his face and turns it, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“I’ll make it up to you later.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Iwa will make it up to him later he w i l l 
> 
> honestly i don't even know where this came from i just?? thought it'd be a good idea?? and it wasn't??? it very much wasn't??? 
> 
> Anyways thank u for reading this hell and feel free to follow me on tumblr @ someone-stole-my-shoes if you wanna cry about haikyuu with me


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